


In the Bushes

by anivhee



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: camelot_drabble, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Stalking, alan is actually kilgharrah, is a nice kind of stalking, pining!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anivhee/pseuds/anivhee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur blames Merlin for becoming an expert at stalking. His khakis suffer the consequences of his escapades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Bushes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Camelot Drabble](http://camelot-drabble.livejournal.com) round 63--"hiding".
> 
> I wrote this in like less than fifteen minutes, so mistakes are everywhere (I tried cleaning it up a bit, but no promises).

When Arthur remembers this in the future, he will always say that it’s all Merlin’s fault. 

Because really, why in _Earth_ would he be stalking him if it wasn’t for his damn existence? 

Alright, maybe Merlin wasn’t really responsible for the way he made Arthur feel, but still. It was becoming rather terrifying how he already had his day scheduled to find him in all the right places—at school _and_ outside of it, which wasn’t really good, if someone asked him. Not only because he was _Arthur bloody Pendragon_ but because he was _hiding_ in places and acting like a stupid thirteen year old girl with a stupid crush on a stupid boy! 

He was now scolding himself for wearing khakis on Merlin’s dog-walk day, or rather, cursing at his brain for presetting that he would go to the boulevard like last week, because if that had been the case, Arthur could use the damn newspaper he bought before he made his way to Elyan’s house (where Merlin always takes Elyan’s sister—Gwen—‘s puppy and goes to pick up the rest of the dogs from there and when the hell did he become so obsessed, God), where he has a perfect hiding spot, mind you, right in front of the building, behind the broken net beside the tiny alley—he tried hiding in the alley once but he felt _something_ padding his foot and ever since then he avoids it completely. 

But no. Merlin decides to go to the left.

And Arthur knows where he’s going, of course he knows, he knows _everything_ there is to know about Merlin and his whereabouts—not that he’s about to admit it, not even when he’s hiding in the bushes of the bloody park, and not _any_ park, but that damn jungle-like tangle of undergrowth and sort-of trees and bloody quicksand (even if no one believes him) (well, he has only told Morgana) with his goddamned _khakis_ and suede loafers buried and muddied and Merlin isn't even worth it.

He keeps telling himself that even as he watches the way Merlin’s laughter lifts up the place, and loses himself on the sharp angles and cute wrinkles that twist his face in that dorky adorable way of his, and the way he plays with the dogs, and how he stretches himself—Arthur tries really hard _not_ to think of other things while that happens—and the way he blabbers to the dogs as if they could understand him, and there’s something _wet_ on his hand, oh God, is something _eating_ him—

“Alan? Alan!” Merlin calls from where he’s sitting in the middle of the mini jungle, and Arthur dares see _what_ exactly is licking him.

Oh, shit.

“Alan!” Merlin stands up. Oh, crap, oh, fuck. Arthur pushes the dog aside but he surprisingly doesn't move (considering he _pushed_ him with his manly force), instead just panting and waving his tail cheerfully at him. 

“Go away!” Arthur hisses, looking frantically over the little hole between the leaves to see Merlin’s frame moving _towards him_.

“Alan? Are you in there?” Merlin’s tone is so sweet, though. Arthur wants to die.

And then the fucking dog _barks_.

“Shut up!” Arthur shrieks—in a manly way, of course—and pushes the dog away again, but _Alan_ jumps over him instead, knocking him down, completely ruining his khakis and what was left of his dignity.

“There you are!” Merlin coos, taking the dog off from him and patting it in the head. Arthur is in such shock he dares not move, hoping that maybe he could pretend to be a bush and Merlin would believe it. “I’m so sorry,” Merlin starts, looking from the dog at him, and all plans for camouflage are gone. “Wait, Arthur? What are you doing here?”

Crap.

“I was, um, just going for a walk, and, you know, I got lost?” he stands up, doing his best to fix his clothes and make himself a little presentable. He tries to smile but it’s a little wobbly.

“Right,” Merlin raises an eyebrow and his lips—his _stupid_ lips—quirk in that bloody irresistible smile of his. “Were you _spying_ on me?” 

“ _What?_ ” his tone is awfully high. “I wasn’t _spying_ on you,” he sputters, heat coloring his cheeks. “I told you, I got _lost_ —“ 

“In a park that no everyone knows about and that has a specific road to walk-by?” the asshole is enjoying it, there’s no doubt about that. 

Arthur rolls his eyes. 

“You _wish_ I would be spying you, don’t you, _Mer_ lin? So hopeful, even after I give you a perfect reasonable…er, reason, to be here in the exact same moment as you, _without_ it being _stalking_ or some stupid _delusional_ thing you might think in that little head of yours—“

“You’re so hopeless,” Merlin laughs, patting his arm, Alan barking his agreement and sniffing at his muddied khakis. “It's such a pity you weren't spying on me, though. I might have considered going for a coffee after I leave the dogs,” and then the asshole turns around and _walks away_ , leaving an dumbstruck blonde staring at him.

“Oh, you _wish_!” he calls out. “Merlin! Merlin? Were you being serious? Wait, hold on!”


End file.
